Cillian braced himself, swallowing the dryness in his throat before finally lifting his hand to knock on his mother's door.
The Royal Luna's study was a sanctuary he had always cherished. Shelves lined every wall, filled with ancient tomes he had been made to read and understand throughout his life. The faint scent of parchment and herbs mingled in the air, grounding him in memories of long, studious afternoons.
Intriguing relics and rare trinkets gleamed under the soft light—treasures his mother had collected during her travels or received as gifts from visiting alphas and nobles.
Flowers, delicate plants, and intricate decorations adorned every corner. Everything in this room reflected her—elegance and discipline wrapped in quiet strength.
"You wanted to see me, Mother?" he asked, stopping before her desk.
"Yes," Daniella replied, her voice calm but edged with purpose. She gestured to the chair across from her. "I think it's about time we had a little chat."
